CHAPTER 25

WHEN THEY ARRIVED IN KFARMICHKI a couple of days later, Adele rested her hand on her mother’s arm, squeezing it gently. Samira put her hand on hers and smiled. “It’s good to be home. It’s so good to be home.” She knelt on the ground, clasped a handful of dry earth, rose and opened her clenched fist; the pebbles fell through her fingers, the wind picking them up and swirling them towards the low mountains bordering the village.

It had been years since anyone had inhabited the old stone house across the mountains. It had belonged to Samira’s parents, both long dead now. Since her siblings had built their own homes in the village, the dwelling had been empty for a long time. But the red brick shingles of the roof still stood bright against the immense blue sky of the Bekaa Valley. The day before, Adele and Samira had removed the wooden planks from the windows and now golden rays entered the small house, awakening it after a slumber. They scrubbed the walls, floors, cupboards, tub and sinks; they made the old home liveable again. This was the second time Adele had visited her parents’ homeland, but this trip didn’t have the strain and deception of the first one. There was no secret betrothal for her. No extended family. Just her and Samira in an old, deserted house that now gleamed though it smelled of cleaning detergents from the ferocious scrub-down it had endured.

The following day, Adele poured coffee into a small cup. She held it to her lips, her mouth tensing, her eyes pinching at the bitter taste. Opening the front door, she walked out into the yard, and lay the cup on the ledge of the window. With her hands on her hips, she stared into the distance, admiring the glorious mountains and fields. The field directly in front of her was empty except for grazing sheep and a shepherd. The shepherd’s staff bobbed up and down in rhythm to his staggered walk. Adele raised her right hand to her eyes, protecting herself from the rising sun. She squinted harder. The shepherd had a long, scraggily beard and a thin frame. Dishevelled hair fell around his face, some strands lightened by the sun, others a dark chestnut with streaks of silver. He wore a tattered tweed blazer with worn patches on the elbows. Adele lifted her hands to her mouth before she began to run into the field, the clean windows absorbing the dusty trail of her sprint.

“Elias!” she shouted midway, waving frantically. But the shepherd didn’t look up. His eyes were fixed on his flock until Adele stood before him, out of breath and clutching his arms. “Elias! It’s you. My God, I thought I’d never see you again.” She pulled him into her body and embraced him. His arms stayed close to his sides as he eased himself back. Adele let him go. She gazed into the greenish-blue eyes she had admired years before. Now there was a vacant, glassy look in them—the look of defeat. “Elias,” she repeated, “It’s Adele. Do you remember me?”

He remained silent, the staff in his hand slowly shaking.

She then held his head between her hands, brought his face close to hers. “It’s Adele. Remember how you helped me. You helped me.” She began to sob. Letting go of his face, she turned and looked back at the house again, and saw the silhouette of her mother standing by the doorframe. She started to walk towards her mother when she felt a hand gently squeezing her shoulder, and heard her name. “Adele. Adele. Adele,” Elias repeated over and over, his strained vocal chords learning to speak their first words since his long and self-imposed silence.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Elias said, his voice cracking.

“I felt the same way. I often thought about you. Remembered how sweet and kind you were to me. How you helped me escape. You made life better for me.”

He cleared his throat. “You did that on your own. I only got you out of here. You did the rest yourself.”

Adele smiled at Elias, then turned towards the house. Her mother stood there with a basket of mint leaves in her hands. Adele began to cross the field, then turned and motioned for Elias to follow her. Moments later, they stood in front of Samira. “Mama, do you remember Elias?” Adele asked.

Samira nodded. “Marhaba, Elias.” Then said to her daughter, “I’m heading to my brother’s for the day. I’ll see you in a few hours, okay.” She kissed Adele on the forehead, then touched Elias on the shoulder, addressing him in a forced politeness, “It is good to see you again.”

Elias nodded, then timidly looked at Adele who flashed him a kind smile.

Samira lifted her head in the direction of the sheep. “Don’t forget your flock.”

“No, Auntie, I won’t forget,” he said, his voice dropping a little.

Adele’s eyes followed her mother, watching her walk down the dirt road to her uncle’s house. Then she stared back at Elias. His eyelids were shut tight as if holding back the tears she had seen well up in them when her mother spoke to him. It wasn’t fair. Elias hadn’t done anything wrong. He wasn’t to blame for her fleeing. Reaching across to his face, she put her hand on his cheek and stroked his scraggily beard.

“What happened, Elias?”

“I don’t know,” he croaked, trying to control the tremor in his tone.

“Why did you return? I thought you wanted to leave, to start fresh.”

“I don’t know.” His chest rose up and down, his breathing ragged.

She touched the rough facial hair, entangling her fingers in its coarseness. She leaned in close to his left ear and whispered, “Let me help you.” She let go of his beard and held her hand out to him.

And without saying a word, he accepted her warm palm and allowed her to guide him inside the house, down the hallway and into the bathroom.